Owls from Hogwarts
by texasmagic
Summary: Ron comes home to an upset Hermione. He just can't figure out why she's expecting an owl from Hogwarts.


**Owls from Hogwarts  
**  
_For Elizabeth  
_  
"Help yourself to a drink, Harry. I'll see if Hermione is still up. You know she's going to want to see you."  
  
Ron walked through the entry way of the little cottage and headed up stairs. He expected to see his wife curled up in the big armchair in the attic room she used as a library. He usually found her there reading while waiting up for him on the nights he went out with the guys from school. When she wasn't there, he checked in their bedroom to see if she had just turned in early. Not finding her there either, Ron peeked in on the children to make sure they were in their beds. Emily and Matthew were both sound asleep, although Ron did stop to put his daughter's feet back under the covers. She never did like to be wrapped up, even as an infant, he laughed to himself.  
  
Coming down the back stairs to the kitchen, Ron noticed that Harry was still rummaging through the kitchen.  
  
"I should still have some butterbeers in the icebox, mate. Did 'Mione put them behind something else?" he said opening the door to look inside.  
  
"Are those the ones you're remembering?" Harry asked, indicating the three empty bottles sitting on counter.  
  
"That's funny," said Ron. "I know I didn't drink those. Besides, I know better than to leave an empty bottle on the counter, 'house rules' and all. Anyway, I should have some Fire whiskey around here too if you want something harder. Check in the top cabinets. Hermione insists on keeping it out of the kids' reach. I'm just going to see if she's fallen asleep on the sofa. She wasn't upstairs."  
  
Ron left Harry to find the drinks and went through the swinging door into the sitting room. The room was perfectly organized. Hermione had obviously made the children straighten up before going to bed.  
  
"There's nothing up here, Ron," he heard Harry call through the swinging door. Taking in the empty sofa, Ron became concerned. The children were there, snug in their beds, but where was their mother?  
  
"Did she come in here, Harry?" Ron asked, returning to the kitchen.  
  
"She wasn't in the sitting room?" Harry asked, picking up on Ron's concern.  
  
"No. I checked her library, our room and even the kids. She'd never leave them alone. Where could she be?"  
  
Ron started to go back up the stairs when Harry stopped him. "Ron, I think I found her."  
  
Following Harry's gaze out the back windows of the kitchen, Ron spied the familiar head of bushy hair. She was sitting in one of the lawn chairs on the porch, looking out into the garden. Ron went out onto the porch to get her. She'd been feeling a little off that week and he didn't want the damp summer air to make things worse.  
  
Besides, he knew she would be furious if she missed the chance to see Harry. They hadn't been expecting him until his birthday at the end of July, but he'd managed to get leave a few weeks early and had caught up with Ron at his weekly meeting at Seamus's pub with Fred, George, Neville and Lee Jordan. Ron had been happily surprised to see Harry, who was stationed with the Aurors in Scotland.  
  
"'Mione, guess who I found?" Ron asked as he came behind her chair.  
  
"Oh, it's you," Hermione grumbled, not bothering to look at him.  
  
Taken aback by her tone, Ron went around her chair to kneel in front of her thinking she must be mad because it was so late. He realized there was something else wrong when he saw the state his normally put together wife was in. She sat slouched in the chair with her head perched on one hand. But what really concerned Ron was the fact that she was out there in her nightdress, without a dressing gown or blanket. In the light from the kitchen, Ron could see the bright red scar from her injuries back in 5th year. The ragged red line ran across the left side of her chest in clear view. Hermione never let anyone but him see that scar. She was extremely self conscious about it, even after all these years, and was always careful to make sure it was hidden from view.  
  
"Um, Ron, maybe I better just come back tomorrow," Harry said coming out onto the porch. Harry knew about Hermione's scar, and he knew the fact that she made no effort to cover it up in front of him was a sure sign something was wrong.  
  
"Nah, I'll just take her up to bed and we can..."  
  
"You'll do no such thing!" said Hermione emphatically. "I'm perfectly capable of taking myself up the stairs," she mumbled as she tried to get up, but she lost her balance and Ron had to catch her before she fell. "Leave me the fuck alone!" she shouted as she pushed her husband away and staggered into the house, leaving him staring after her.  
  
"Ron, I think I found that bottle of Fire whiskey," Harry said. He bent down to pick up the empty bottle off the porch by the chair.  
  
"What the hell? That bottle was at least half full. She's pissed!" said Ron looking after Hermione. " I'm sorry, I know she can go off the deep end, but I've never seen her like this."  
  
"You reckon she finished off those butterbeers, too?"  
  
"I guess. I just don't know what's going on. It's not like her to drink this much, and she doesn't even like whiskey. She's always complaining about how horrid tasting it is. I better go see what she's on about."  
  
Ron followed Hermione into the house and found her sitting at the kitchen table with her head leaning on one hand. As he crossed over to her he saw that the other hand was resting on her stomach. Maybe she was already going to be sick. Hermione had always been more of a 'wine with dinner' type than a 'drinking for the fun of it' girl.  
  
Harry followed him in and began to clear away the empty bottles. Hermione still hadn't acknowledged that he was even there. She sat at the table, making little moaning noises. She sounded like she was truly in distress.  
  
Kneeling next to her chair, Ron put his arm around her and pulled her wild hair away from her face. "What's wrong, love? What's going on?"  
  
She mumbled something that sounded like "Hogwarts".  
  
Ron looked up at Harry, who shrugged and shook his head. "I'm sorry, what about Hogwarts?" he asked.  
  
Hermione slammed the hand she had been leaning on down on table and sat back. This time they understood "owl from Hogwarts". Something must have happened. Something bad. Concerned, Harry began look around the kitchen for a stray piece of parchment.  
  
"What happened, Hermione? Is somebody hurt? Where is the letter?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione pushed away from Ron and stood up quickly, knocking the chair into the wall behind her. "Nothing happened, dammit! That's just it! There wasn't any owl from Hogwarts."  
  
Ron stood up and looked at his wife. She only cursed when she was drunk, which was almost never. Her face was flushed from the alcohol, and her eyes were red and puffy. Tears were streaming down her face. "Ok, so what's wrong. You never drink this much and I'm worried.  
  
"There's no letter from Hogwarts this year! You don't understand!" Hermione yelled as she pushed through the swinging doors and left the kitchen.  
  
Ron ran a hand through his red hair. "Look, um, Harry, maybe we should do this some other time. I don't know what's up with her."  
  
"No problem. I'm not due back until August. I already made plans to stay at the Burrow anyway. Ginny and your mum are probably waiting for me. I'll let myself out and apparate instead of using the floo in there," Harry said, nodding towards the still swinging doors. "Take care of her Ron. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah, g'night. It's good to see you."  
  
After a quick handshake and hug, Harry let himself out the front door. Ron took a deep breath and went through the doors to see what in the world was wrong with his wife. She was sitting on edge of the sofa, both arms rapped around her stomach, rocking back and forth. He could tell she was still crying.  
  
Sitting down next to her, Ron rubbed her back and tried to use the most soothing voice he could. "Tell me what's going on, Hermione"  
  
Hermione let out a whimper and stopped rocking. "We didn't get a letter from Hogwarts this summer," she said between deep breaths.  
  
"Ok, why is that a problem? There isn't anyone we know there anymore, except for old professors. Was there someone you were expecting to hear from?"  
  
"No, not a regular letter,"she said quietly. "A school letter, like we used to get every summer before the start of term."  
  
"Why would you expect to get one of those letters this summer? Emily won't be starting Hogwarts for four more years, and Matthew for five. And they've both done enough magic accidentally. There's no way they won't be accepted. Not with the brightest witch Hogwarts has ever seen for a mum."  
  
"There should have been a letter. It's all my fault. I thought I could handle it. If I had just stayed away, we would have received one this month, and we'd be heading off to Diagon Alley this week to buy robes and a wand and..." Hermione pulled away from Ron and began rocking back and forth again.  
  
"Stayed away from where, love? And why should we be getting a letter this year?"  
  
"From Hogsmeade, at the end, with you and Harry and Voldemort. It would have been eleven years ago," she whispered.  
  
Ron kneeled down on the floor in front of her and held Hermione's chin with his hand. "Now, why do you keep holding your stomach like that? And besides, isn't it almost twelve years? That wasn't during the summer anyway. It was really cold, remember? I don't understand why you're so sad. We won. Voldemort's gone. Harry vanquished him. "  
  
And then Ron did remember. Hermione wasn't upset about the anniversary of the final battle. She wasn't thinking about Dean, Luna, Professor Dumbledore or anyone else they had lost. She was remembering the loss that only the two of them knew about. Something they had never told anyone else. Not even Harry. Hermione was thinking of the baby.  
  
"He would have turned eleven this summer," she sobbed. "It's all my fault. I thought I was so bloody brilliant! First, I thought I was smart enough to figure out that potion. I had brewed polyjuice in second year for goodness sakes! But then I screwed it up, and there I was, Hermione Granger, top her class, head girl- and pregnant."  
  
"Hermione, don't do this to yourself," Ron said quietly. "It was a long time ago. We were young, with NEWTS to study for and Harry to worry about. Not to mention all the concern over keeping your parents safe once the Death Eaters started targeting the parents of Muggle-borns. You made a mistake. WE made a mistake. We both knew what could happen, and we made a decision. I thought we were through this." Hermione had begun crying again and was wringing her hands in her lap.  
  
"You don't get it do you?" she sobbed, becoming more frantic. "I should have been able to do it. I should have been able to make that potion correctly. I screwed up and created an awful situation. I didn't know what to do. And before we had a chance to decide how to handle things, I did something even worse. I let the baby die. I had this life inside me and I just let it die."  
  
Ron took Hermione's hands in his to still them. "Do not say that Hermione. Look, we've been through this. It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything on purpose."  
  
Hermione jerked her hands away from him and stood up quickly crossing the room to stand by the fireplace. Rounding on Ron she said, "I didn't do anything to protect the baby either though, did I? I survived Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries, and being kidnapped by that lunatic Bellatrix. Surely I, little know it all that I was, could handle being in the final battle. When I heard the Death Eaters were attacking at Hogsmeade I went through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. I knew you and Harry and gone there. How could the two of you make it through without the little encyclopedia of spells in my brain 'oh so wonderful' brain?"  
  
Ron stood and faced Hermione. "I was just as much to blame. When the trouble first started, I was so relieved to know you wouldn't be there. I had convinced you to stay back and rest because you weren't feeling well. I couldn't believe it when I saw you there dueling with Draco in the street. I wanted to get to you and send you back or make you apparate someplace safe. I wanted to keep you and the baby safe. I just didn't get to you in time," Ron said quietly.  
  
Hermione hung her head and turned her back to her husband to face the fireplace. "I'm still so ashamed. I didn't even stop to think about how you would have insisted that I stay behind. I didn't even think about the baby."  
  
Ron stood behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her. "Shh. Hermione. You didn't plan on anything happening to the baby. We'd just figured out about why you were so sick. We weren't even used to the idea yet. You heard we were in trouble and you came to help. It's what we did. Every year. We stood by Harry. We never thought of ourselves. If you hadn't been there, McNair might have gotten to Harry before he defeated Voldemort. There was no one else to help. They'd isolated the three of us remember?"  
  
Hermione turned to face Ron and buried her face in his chest, fisting his shirt in his hand. "When I woke up in the infirmary, I knew. Before you even told me what had happened, I knew. The baby was gone. I was just numb. So why does it hurt now, Ron? Why do I still feel as though someone has ripped out a part of my heart? It's like this hole inside me that never goes away. Won't it ever go away?"  
  
Ron gently pulled Hermione down to sit on the rug in front of the fire. "I don't know 'Mione, I wish I could make it go away. Just like I wish I could get rid of the red line on your chest so you wouldn't be so self- conscious about it all the time," he whispered. He held her close and stroked her hair while she whimpered quietly. He began to rock gently back and forth, trying to sooth her. He ached for the lost baby, too, but he knew that Hermione had taken it much harder than he had. For several years, the annual celebration of Voldemort's defeat had been a dark time of the year for Hermione. Everyone else thought she was just remembering all the friends that had been lost in the war. Ron knew differently. The first July they had been married, Hermione had spent days in her dressing gown, sitting in a chair, staring at nothing. Not even reading her precious books could keep her from dwelling on the newborn baby she thought she ought to have been holding.  
  
She was no longer as self assured or as willing to readily express her opinion. It was a slight difference, one other people barely noticed. The twins, noticing she didn't harp on them anymore when they tested their products on the family, had jokingly asked Ron how he had managed to tame her. When she decided to accept a researching job in the Ministry instead of becoming an advocate in the Department of Magical Creatures Office, everyone thought she was finally coming to her senses regarding house elves. Only Ron knew that she was really doubting everything she'd ever believed about herself.  
  
When they lost two pregnancies, Ron understood that her depression was more than the usual guilt his mum had warned him about. He knew that Hermione considered the miscarriages her punishment for losing the baby to the curse she had tried to block from McNair.  
  
When they had finally had Emily, Hermione began to have fewer dark days. She seemed to regain some of her confidence. Caring for Emily kept her from dwelling on the past. Once Matthew came along, Ron was sure the whole thing had been put behind them. Hermione was a wonderful mother and loved being busy with her children. But Ron knew that the two babes sleeping upstairs could never replace the one they had lost.  
  
Ron kissed Hermione on the top of her head. She seemed to have calmed down. Ron knew what she really needed was to get some sleep. After all that she had had to drink she was going to be in bad shape in the morning. Trying not to disturb her, Ron gathered Hermione into his arms and stood. He carried her up the stairs and laid her on their bed.  
  
Tucking the covers in around her, Ron ran a finger lightly along Hermione's scar. He glanced down at his own arms. The lines that trailed around his arms were pink and bright against his freckled skin. As Madam Pomphrey had promised, the scars from those nasty brains had faded, but they reappeared, red and inflamed, whenever he became upset. At least he didn't have to notice them everyday, like Hermione did with the scar above her heart. It would always be there, and still looked red and raw, even after all these years.  
  
Maybe it was the same way with the baby. He'd been foolish to think she would ever really get over what had happened. Obviously, for Hermione, the hidden scars she carried were every bit as ugly and impossible to forget as the visible one that she so carefully hid from the rest of the world. He just wished he knew how to make them both go away.  
  
_A/N: I know a lot of you don't like to read stories where one of the girls gets pregnant. However, we've also discussed the fact that Hermione has gotten a little overconfident. Besides, even smart girls, who know all the facts, get it wrong sometimes.  
  
Please review._


End file.
